


Come back to me

by Toby1990 (Hermy1990)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg is not okay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mycroft To The Rescue, Worried John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermy1990/pseuds/Toby1990
Summary: Greg is numb, John worries and Mycroft helps.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Come back to me

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya Guys, motivation has gone on holiday and brain farts are playing on repeat.  
> i started this my typing what i was feeling yesterday, and then BAM! story. so... yeah. but i dont read angst without a happing ending, so i dont write angst without a happy ending.
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!!

Nothing. Blank. Emptiness. Bleak. Darkness descending into an eternal abyss. Empty echoes dying in the bottom of a bottomless pit of despair. Eyes glazed. Unfocused, but staring at the empty wall as if searching for answers to questions never asked… and will probably never be answered.

Suddenly a voice is heard, muffled as though under water.

“Greg? Gre…?”

The voice disappears, quickly forgotten to the eternal… nothingness.

* * *

“Hey Greg, mate look I need a favour…” John starts saying as he enters lestrade’s office, but quickly stops talking when he spots Greg sitting at his desk.

Back straight, shoulders slightly rounded, face blank, eyes glazed and looking at the wall.

“Greg? Greg? Mate, whats wrong? Did something happen?” Moving to stand beside the mans chair, he slowly reaches out, eventually landing a hand on his shoulder.

Greg slowly blinks once, twice, and seems to come back to himself with a slight shake of his head. Slowly turning his head to the touch, as if he was moving through syrup, he finally looks at the hand on his shoulder.

No emotion seemed to cross his face, no recognition, no… anything.

John began to be really concerned about the lack of reaction that the man had to his surroundings, knowing that Lestrade had very quick reflexes and great instincts when at work.

“Greg,” John tried again to get through to him “What’s wrong?”.

Again Greg barely twitched a muscle.

John had to think quickly what to do, the only thing he could think of was calling Mycroft as they seemed to have some kind of connection.

He pulled out his phone, found the one number that was always programmed into his phone, no matter if he had just replaced it, pressed call and raised it to his ear.

* * *

Floating. Warmth. Warmth? On his shoulder. He feels his head move to where the feeling was. Tan skin. oh. Never mind. The spot on his shoulder quickly growing cold in the absence of the visual he needed.

“Mycroft”

Hmm? Where? oh the phone. Never mind then.

Just drifting down this cold stream to the vast emptiness of the void. I heard somewhere that screaming into the void helps release emotional strain. Can’t be arsed. What’s the point anymore?

“he needs help… blank… space…ambulance”

Why are these words filtering through? Why? Why? Why?

Suddenly, within his mind, Greg starts screaming. Screaming in frustration, in despair, in anger, in confusion and finally, in relief.

Greg closed his eyes and sank to the bottom of the stream.

* * *

15 minutes later Mycroft arrived.

“John what happened?” Mycroft demanded stopping in front of Greg’s desk.

“I don’t know, he was like this when I walked in. he seemed to respond a little to my touch, then returned to this state. About roughly 5 minutes ago he released a big breath and closed his eyes. I don’t know what to do, this is out of my area of expertise.”

“Right. How long til the ambulance arrives?”

“ETA is 5 minutes.”

“Good. Let me talk to him.”

Mycroft moved around the desk to stand next to the seated man. Pulling his trousers up at the knee, he sat on the edge of the desk beside Greg’s arm. Gently resting his hand on top of Greg’s, he slowly begins to rub his thumb side to side on his wrist.

“Gregory. Gregory. Come back to me. Come back to me.” Mycroft repeats this phrase for about two minutes in a low voice before something happens. Just a flicker of Greg’s eyelashes. And again a minute later.

Mycroft keeps chanting the phrase slowly as Greg gradually, after roughly 8 minutes, opens his eyes.

“Hello beautiful. You’re going to be okay.”

Greg slowly lmoves his head to look at Mycroft and… smiles.


End file.
